


Taken

by dralexreid



Series: Dr Piper Bishop [42]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Torture, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralexreid/pseuds/dralexreid
Summary: A series of unwanted advances make Piper nervous as a secret admirer starts becoming violent.
Relationships: Dr Spencer Reid/Dr Piper Bishop
Series: Dr Piper Bishop [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972852
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	1. A Planetary Orbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper gets the distinct feeling of someone watching her. Will she figure who it is before someone she loves gets hurt?

Piper hadn’t been back home in a while. She turned her key softly in the lock. She’d practically been living with Spencer since his accident. He’d gotten better though, using a cane instead of crutches now, and was insistent that he could take care of himself. She dropped her coat on her stand, greeting her sister who’d come back for semester break. Lucy quickly updated her that her cup of tea was almost done, and she’d collected some mail in the morning. Smiling, she kissed her forehead and moved into the kitchen. While the tea bubbled behind her, Piper went through her mail. It was all just the regular, bills and notices and advertisements for a Pilates class until she found a letter from Daniel. “Hey, Luce, there’s one here from Dan.”

“Oh yeah,” her voice bubbled over from her seat on the couch. “He said something was being sent over. Wouldn’t tell me what. Said it’s for you.” Piper moved to her armchair, cup and envelope in hand. Setting the cup down she slit the envelope open and read it out.

“They’re tickets,” she mused. “To Anna Karenina.”

“He sent you tickets to see some woman?”

“It’s a play, dumbass. By Tolstoy.” Lucy laughed and she flicked through another page of her magazine.

“No wonder he sent it. You’re the only one who reads those things.”

“Ha-Ha,” she laughed dryly. “I don’t get it, though. He lives in Maine. Why would his colleague give him tickets to DC?”

“I dunno. Call and ask.”

She did. But he was just as clueless as she was. But free tickets were free tickets, and it was her favourite Tolstoy play. Lucy was clearly disinterested, and the only other person Piper wanted to ask was Spencer, who was very clearly interested. The seating wasn’t terrible, and Piper booked them for Sunday’s show. With Lucy living at Piper’s place, it was like they were kids again. Piper cooking, Lucy dancing to music and pulling Piper away from the stove to twirl her. It felt natural. Dancing, cooking, eating, the smell of spices floating throughout the apartment, Lucy stealing her cardigans and Piper stealing her jewellery. That’s what she missed the most, she told Lucy over dinner. They spent most of the night like that, swapping stories and talking trash about people they used to know until they both trudged off to bed. Piper rubbed her eyes as she pulled her pyjamas on before noticing the open window, curtains billowing with the wind. _Lucy._ She latched the window shut, locking it. They didn’t live very high up in the complex, only a few levels.

* * *

The next day was a boring one, with way too much paperwork and not enough coffee for Spencer. Piper held a stress ball in one hand, a pen in the other, a slight cramp bleeding into her wrist. Emily got bored far too easily and started dragging all her pens out and balancing them upright in a line, a task made all the more difficult as Derek started shooting rubber bands at them, stopping only when one accidentally hit her face. Rossi walked out of his office every now and then, walking straight past Spencer who had long given up on paperwork and was now building a castle out of playing cards until Piper pulled out her desk fan and aimed it at him. With Spencer using a cane, it was a lot easier to drop him off at home when the day ended.

Lucy wasn’t at home when she arrived. Piper had only found a note saying she was out with friends. She called to double-check she was okay and whether she wanted dinner when she came home before shuffling off to her room to settle down with her copy of the Tempest when she noticed the window open again. She swore she locked it this morning, but it was probably just Lucy again. She pulled her night robe around her more tightly when she heard the landline ring outside. Sighing, she trudged over, picking up the phone, wondering who the hell would call on a landline when she had a perfectly working cell phone. “This is Dr Bishop,” she introduced, hoping whatever this was, it would be quick. Work would’ve tried her cell first, then her landline as was her consultation number. She pondered on this as the line remained silent. Sighing again, she returned the phone to its original position. She turned to go back to bed, but the landline rang again. “Jesus,” she muttered before picking it up again. “Bishop.” Her voice was urgent, insistent even, and she furrowed her eyebrows at the car alarm going off downstairs. She moved inside with her phone to the window in her room, which was open again. She could hear hard breathing on the other line. This was starting to get creepy, she noted, as she gazed out the window to see a car outside. Definitely creepy. She turned the phone off and locked the windows, double-checking the rest of the house. She’d get a locksmith in for those windows. For now, Piper grabbed some twine from the kitchen, tied it to the elastic she kept on her wrist and then tied the other end to the window. Maybe it was nothing. But she didn’t want to take the risk.

* * *

The next afternoon, Piper closed the door softly behind her at the sight of Lucy taking an afternoon nap. Her eyes gleamed at the possibilities. When they were younger, it was always Daniel doing this kind of thing, Piper noted as she grabbed the whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate sauce from the kitchen cupboards. She was always the impulse control, she thought, shaking the bottle of whipped cream. Piper grinned as she silently traced Lucy’s eyebrows in whipped cream and a little moustache with the chocolate before doing a white beard and sideburns with sprinkles all over. She topped it off with a swirl of whipped cream on her nose and dashed to grab a cherry from the fridge. Done with her masterpiece, she snapped a photo, sending it to Daniel before setting an alarm on her phone for exactly 25 seconds, grabbing her stuff from the apartment and dashing out. She thought she’d take a lap around the block before coming back when she heard a scream and sprinted for the elevator, finally understanding the thrill behind these shenanigans. The photo prompted a call from Daniel and they both laughed over it, then catching up as though they’d never lived in different states before. He’d talk to her about Eva, his girlfriend, and she’d talk to him about Spencer and they talked for a while until she had an incessant feeling. There was someone following her around, she was sure of it. No subtle glances provided her with any useful insight, and no matter what weird paths she took or how fast she walked, the feeling remained. It was driving her mad.

She unlocked the door to her apartment to see Lucy pacing and fought hard to keep a neutral face. “You did it, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” Piper’s voice was innocent, and she dropped the keys in the dish and her coat on a stand.

“Payback’s a bitch,” Lucy reminded before storming off, only to come back in to retrieve her phone. Laughing, Piper went to check her mail, except there was just a little letter. More like a memo, Piper noted as she scanned it.

> _“it isn't blood that makes you my sister_
> 
> _it's how you understand my heart_
> 
> _as though you carry it_
> 
> _in your body”_
> 
> _\- Rupi Kaur, The Sun and Her Flowers_

Confused, Piper moved to throw it out, but she stopped, pulling out the photographs inside the envelope and she felt her breathing constrict. A series of pictures were stashed inside and Piper took them to her desk. She placed each one on the table, examining each one in detail. One was of her, Lucy and Daniel at a graveyard in California. Another was a picture of Daniel and his girlfriend at work. There was a photo for each team member too. Hotch at home with Jack. Derek and Garcia at a bar in Florida. Emily was in Atlantic City, playing poker. Spencer was at a guest lecture, wearing purple. It did look very good on him, she noted. JJ was with Will and Henry. Rossi at a book signing. There were more photos of her and each of her loved ones. Piper babysitting for Hotch where Jack was sitting comfortably on her shoulders. A baseball game with Derek with the Giants and the Cubs. A joint lecture with Rossi. A conference with Spencer. It would have been funny if it wasn't completely bone-chilling for her. She shoved it into a desk drawer as she sat, rubbing a hand over her face. She sighed deeply until the phone rang again. She yelled for Lucy to take it only for her to yell back that she wasn’t her bitch and she could do it herself. She trudged over to pick up the landline only getting more frustrated when they wouldn’t answer back.

Noticing, Lucy pulled out some cheap liquor from their cabinet. Piper laughed uneasily, telling Lucy to get the glasses while she got the duvet from her room. Piper grabbed the thick blanket before noticing the open window. Cursing, she slammed the window shut and locking it aggressively. They spent the night drinking and Lucy was much better at this game than she was. “Never have I ever…dated a co-worker.” Piper groaned, taking a shot.

“Why do I tell you anything?”

“Cause you love me. Your turn!”

“Kay. Never have I ever slept with someone whose name I don't know.” An evil grin spread across Piper’s face as Lucy drank.

“Ooh. Never have I ever spied on my neighbours.”

“Technically, it wasn’t spying,” Piper stammered, a deep blush entering her cheeks.

“So, you weren’t stalking Alex Greendale?”

“He was a good drummer!”

“He was a terrible drummer. Drink.” Lucy laughed.

“Okay, you wanna play dirty. Never have I ever crushed on a teacher.” Piper’s voice was barely a whisper and Lucy scowled as she took a drink.

“I don’t regret it. Ms Atkins was hot as hell.” Piper laughed.

“I’m not sure she would have agreed, Luce. Your turn for the win.”

“Easy. Never have I ever shot someone.” Humour leeched out of Piper’s face but she took the shot anyway. “Jeez, Pipes, I’m sorry. I didn’t-” Regret filled the younger girl’s face. She hadn’t meant to hurt her like that.

“It’s fine,” she waved her off as the alcohol stung. “I’ve got work tomorrow so I should go to sleep the alcohol off.” Piper stumbled as she tried to get the glasses.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean up.” Piper smiled at her sister softly, kissing the top of her hair softly before trudging off, ignoring the open window in the corner of the room.

* * *

When she woke up, the room was spinning before Piper could even open her eyes. Her mouth felt toxic, like some dried-up barrel of sewage left to bake in boiling heat. She forced herself to sit up, the headrush sending a spike of nausea through her. So maybe last night hadn’t been such a great idea, a concept reinforced by the sound of retching in the guest bedroom. As if on cue, her own stomach turned over she ran to her own bathroom, acid stinging her throat. Her head still ached though, and she rummaged through her bags for Advil. Neither girl had the energy to make breakfast, the most they managed was a bowl of cereal each. But at least Lucy had the day to herself, Piper still had to go to work. Derek was going to be relentless.

“Hey, angel! What’s with the sunglasses?” Derek’s tone dripped with mockery; his grin unrelenting.

“Shhhh! I’m right here.” Her words weren’t more than a whisper, but Derek’s guffaws were deafening.

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good hangover cure. Devilled eggs served on an ashtray.”

“Do not make me puke all over you Derek,” she warned.

“What?! It works, I swear.” Piper marched out of the elevator, ripping off her sunglasses and making a profane gesture at Derek that no workplace agreement would ever concede to.

“Love you too, angel.”

Grumbling, Piper almost slammed her cup of coffee on the table except a giant floral arrangement was currently occupying her desk. “Ooh, someone’s got an admirer,” Emily sang from her desk. “What did he do?”

“What?”

“Spencer. Men only send flowers when they’ve screwed up. What did he do?”

“Nothing that I know of. I barely saw him outside of work this week. They are lovely though,’ Piper admired them. “Maybe it’s an apology for that?” Piper sighed as she gently touched a petal. “How am I supposed to work with these flowers?”

“I dunno, keep them in JJ’s office. She took the day off. Hey, listen.” Emily sauntered over. “What kind of alcohol do flowers drink?” Piper grimaced. “Go on.”

“I don’t know Emily,” she said patiently, “what kind of alcohol do flowers drink?”

“Rosé!” Emily snickered. Piper just slapped her forehead before lifting the flowers. “Wait up, I’ve got more. What do you call flowers who are best friends?”

* * *

Piper was fast asleep in her seat on the plane coming home to DC. Spencer and Emily were playing a game of poker in the back corner while Derek had fallen asleep listening to music. It had been a standard case of a vigilante killing prostitutes in North Dakota and they were all pretty hammered. Spencer and Piper were particularly angry at missing Anna Karenina once they figured they’d be flying home during the play, almost midnight by the time she got home. As tired as she was, she flashed her badge at the officers outside her brownstone behind the yellow tape. “What’s going on?”

“Landlady of this house was found dead. There a case we don’t know about?”

“No, I live here, what happened to Mrs Hanson?”

“Fell down the stairs by the looks of it. Banged her head pretty hard. You need anything else?”

“No, that’s okay. Thank you.” Piper ducked under the tape and made her way to the apartment. As the door closed behind her, she registered shock more than anything else. As she stumbled to the couch, she found she couldn’t breathe, not like she used to. Mrs Hanson had given her this house, brought her cookies (slightly burnt) but was always a well-meaning, sweet landlady. That being said, she never took anything from anyone. Spencer had once gotten into a scuffle with her when he’d brought her flowers after a botched date. She’d miss her, Piper managed to process, she already did. Her head swivelled at the padding of footsteps. Lucy.

“Oh, good, you’re home. You’ll never guess who I ran into-“

“Wait, you went out today?” Piper schooled her features as she replied, listening faintly as Lucy explained where she’d gone all day.

“Pipes, what’s wrong?” Lucy asked, crossing her eyebrows

“Nothing, Luce. Mrs Hanson, she uh... She fell down the stairs, probably an accident.”

“Oh my god, Pipes is she okay?”

“No, Lucy. She died by the time the police came downstairs,” Piper said, running a hand through her hair as Lucy held her shoulder gently. She sighed before her cell buzzed.

_Check the news – Dan._

Piper narrowed her eyes at the text, showing it to Lucy before watching her sister reach for the remote.

_"A recent explosion in DC's very own National Theatre has shaken the production crew on the beloved play Anna Karenina. Thankfully, no-one died in the explosion, but it did rather severely injure a dozen people. Authorities aren't quite sure who the target of this explosion was but the general consensus among the theatre performers seems to be some form of protest of the play."_


	2. Dates and Conspiracies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper distances herself from the team in an effort to keep them safe.

_"A recent explosion in DC's very own National Theatre has shaken the production crew on the beloved play Anna Karenina. Thankfully, no-one died in the explosion, but it did rather severely injure a dozen people. Authorities aren't quite sure who the target of this explosion was but the general consensus among the theatre performers seems to be some form of protest of the play."_

Piper stared at the news, frozen to her toes, oblivious to Lucy's question. Things started to click in Piper’s mind as the headlines rolled on the screen. The window, the poem, the nagging instinct to look over her shoulder, the calls that had given her such a headache that she would’ve smashed the receiver if not for Lucy. “It’s not safe for you here. You’re going to stay with Daniel, I’ll-”

“Yeah, like hell I will. I’m not a little kid and I’m staying with you.” She jutted out her chin just like she used to.

“Don’t do this,” Piper pleaded. “Don’t be stubborn. Please, go to Daniel.”

“Pipes-”

“Damn it, Lucy Bishop, you are going to stay with Daniel, and I won’t hear another word about it. Go, pack your bags. I’m booking a flight for tomorrow.” Lucy huffed, recognising her sister’s tone and rushing back inside. Piper twirled her phone in her hand. She didn’t know how much her stalker knew about her, or how much access he had. Anyone she could call would be in danger, but if she simply stayed at home, Piper realised, the BAU would check up on her. In all likelihood, Piper thought, Mrs Hanson had been murdered. She had to assume, then, that her stalker would go to any lengths to keep her in DC, that he knew someone was in her life, that he’d killed Mrs Hanson to keep her here, that he was rational enough to make it look like an accident. Piper sighed. She only had one real asset.

“Dr Bishop? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m sorry,” she apologised in advance, “but I need a few favours and I think you’re the only one who can help me.”

The rules were clear. Anderson would come by her place at 7 in the least conspicuous vehicle he could get. Apparently, that meant a Honda Civic. Lucy would go downstairs with her bags and a series of letters handwritten by Piper. Under no circumstances was he to come out of the vehicle. He would drop her at the airport, then leave for Quantico while a locksmith came to Piper’s place. No-one would question him staying back late, he told her, it was natural enough. He would deposit a letter each to Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi and Penelope Garcia and two letters for Aaron Hotchner, pretending not to notice the yellow splotches on Spencer’s letter. He would then pack up her desk and drop back by her place. He was not to leave the vehicle again. Instead, Piper would go down, pick up her box from the trunk and lug it back upstairs. And not a word of this was to be communicated unless he was undergoing ‘cruel and unusual torture’.

Piper exhaled heavily as she read the text from Lucy saying she was safe and with Daniel. Piper kept her receiver off the landline, the shades drawn and barely checked the mail. All her bills had gone digital anyway. Finally, having crossed off her second-last to-do, Piper called an old friend from Brown, telling him she’d decided to collaborate with him on that project after all. The beauty of their partnership, she explained, was that she’d get to stay home and write while he did the part he loved most. Research. She collapsed onto her couch, staring at the ceiling until she fell asleep.

* * *

To Dr Spencer Reid,

I don’t know why I’m writing to you last. Maybe it’s that boundary between personal and professional relationships.

Believe me, this isn’t your fault. Every time I close my eyes, I keep remembering everyone I’ve failed in this job. In that same breath, I’m afraid of disappointing you, not when you love me so infallibly. Nothing comes close to how much I love you which is why I can’t be anything to you. God, I hate doing this.

Sacrifice. That’s what this is. All I want is for you to be happy and this will hurt you but that’s going to be temporary. Love, trust me, you’ll be better off without me. Know that you mean everything to me. Everything is for you. Don’t try to find me.

Yours,

Dr Piper Bishop

* * *

Something felt off, he noticed, glancing at her cleaned desk. “I don’t get it,” he heard Emily say. “I thought she was tougher than this.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. She punched me in the nose, remember.”

“Don’t forget that unsub in Seattle,” Emily reminded him with a smile which quickly faded as Penelope’s heels clacked rapidly towards them.

“You guys got them too?” Derek pulled Penelope in for a hug, glancing at JJ, Hotch and Rossi who had all come out of their offices respectively. They gathered in the conference room; 8 letters spread out on the desk in front of Spencer who rapidly read through them. JJ simply laid a hand on his shoulder while the others tried to figure out what to say.

“See, her grammar and syntax are perfect in every letter except mine. It has to be some kind of-”

“There’s no deciphering this one, kid,” Derek said. “She isn’t an unsub. She’s-”

“She’s Piper, Morgan. Think about it. Why would she-”

“She just needs a break, kid. You need to give her space.” Spencer shoved his arm away, sprinting downstairs before grabbing his messenger bag and leaving to grab the next train to her apartment. His heart hammered in his chest as the elevator rattled up before he ran to the most familiar apartment door. Rummaging for his key, Spencer panted before trying and failing to turn the doorknob. _Screw it._ Spencer pounded on the door before yelling her name out, unaware of her on the other side. He kept going relentlessly until Mr Jacobs popped his head out his front door and yelled at him to shut up. Her resolve held firm and eventually she heard his soft voice through the slit between the door and the wall.

“Look, Piper, if you’re there. I just… I’m sorry if I did something or said something. All my life I've been waiting for something, I just didn’t know it was you, and if you leave, I think I might fall apart.” She felt tears roll down her cheek as she lay against the door. “Anyway, I uh…I couldn't let you leave without telling you that you’re important to me.” His voice grew small as he whispered a small bye to her. She knew he would figure it out when it would mater.


	3. Visions & Voicemails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper bumps into a familiar face at a coffee shop but her doubt prompts her to check in with loved ones.

It had been weeks of this. She felt like she was in uni again, her papers scattered all over the apartment, multiple interview transcripts on her laptop waiting. She dropped her highlighter, sagging her face into her hands as she moved to make a cup of tea, but all her cups were in the sink. Sighing, she grabbed the nearest cardigan, going down to the coffee shop around the block. Piper scrubbed her face as she waited in line.

“Piper?” She heard disbelief behind her, and she whipped her head around to the smell of fresh lime flooding in.

“Jayje. What are you doing here?”

“I started coming here ever since… Spencer mentioned this was your favourite place to get coffee.”

“He’s half-right,” Piper chuckled tiredly. “My favourite coffee place is whichever one’s the closest.” They took their coffees and then a seat in the corner. Piper sat with her back to the wall, keeping an eye to the street.

“So, um, your research, how’s it going?”

“Good, yeah. We’ve just hit a block. Trying to figure out how trauma triggers memory loss but the thesis has to prove how we can bring repressed memories back with environmental manipulation. Problem is that people are willing to interview but Theo can’t find volunteers for the experiment.”

“Why don’t you do it?” Piper glanced over at JJ as she sipped her coffee.

“Well, there’d be a huge problem with bias and it’s just asking for discreditation.” JJ nodded sagely before settling her cup down. “How is everyone?” JJ wasn’t a profiler, but she knew fake nonchalance when she heard it.

“They’re okay. Morgan finally asked out Todd so that’s been happening for a week. Penelope and I have a bet on how long-” JJ hesitated, noticing Piper’s devastation as the woman stared into her coffee. “Look, Pipes, I know this job is hard, but Spencer’s been taking this whole thing really hard. Just call him, please.” Piper faltered as she met JJ’s eyes, then the prickling on her neck before glancing across the street to a man wearing a striped maroon sweater and yellow top. The outfit seemed familiar to her and panic set in.

“I’m sorry, J. I just realised something really important. I have to run. Say hi to the team for me.” With that, Piper sprinted down the streets before turning the key to her apartment and slamming it behind her. Frantically, she dialled Spencer’s number as she glanced down the street.

 _“Pi-Piper?”_ His voice was shaky, and she realised the words tumbled out of her mouth without meaning to.

“Are you okay?”

_“I mean, not really but-”_

“No, I mean are you safe? No-one’s broken into your place?”

 _“N-No, Piper, is everything okay?”_ Piper breathed a sigh of relief until she realised, he’d asked her something.

“Huh? Yeah, fine. Listen, I can’t stay long.” For the second time in that phone call, more words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “Love you.” She hung up, ignoring the multiple rings that followed and returning to her piles of research.

* * *

To say that Piper was frustrating wasn’t new to Spencer. He let the phone clatter on his table as he fixed his tie again in the mirror. It wasn’t like he was particularly excited about this date. Penelope had met some geneticist the other week and had taken it upon herself to arrange a date. Her moods currently fluctuated from frustration at Piper’s radio silence to helicopter parenting Spencer. It was only a distraction, Spencer told Morgan later, from dealing with her own issues. But Morgan had taken Garcia’s side saying the only way to move on was to move on. That’s what everyone was focused on. Moving on. All he wanted to do was figure out why she left. To the others, the letters were enough explanation. Piper was more than experienced in psychology, she’d practised it in every way she could. She knew how they all thought but she’d lapsed from professional to personal with Spencer. He had the letters memorised and it was all he could think about. Her lapses in grammar. Moving jobs, he could understand. Breaking up what they had wasn’t. And the phone call just proved it. It had only slipped out, but he knew she meant it. He glanced mournfully at her cardigan still strewn across his chair, her mug still sitting on his desk. Emily had told him to return it, but he’d only retorted that if she wanted them, she could collect it herself. But there they sat, living proof that she’d sacrifice her favourite cardigan and mug to never see him again.

* * *

Piper rubbed her eyes as she read through the transcripts again. Someone had to be willing to do the experiment. A student, an intern, anyone. She’d rung up some former patients she still kept in touch with but they were all out of state and wouldn’t meet anyone but her. She’d changed SIM cards too but Penelope was relentless, still managing to find her new numbers. Any other person, any other case, she would’ve kissed the top of her hair and yelled out that she loved her before sprinting to update someone. Giving in, Piper went through her voicemails.

“ _Hey, Pipes. Look, whatever this is, we can figure this out. Just come home, please.” Beep._

_“Hiya Pipes. Listen, a new case has come in and I can hold your resignation in the system. It’s wickedly creepy too, some stalker in Georgia. We could really use you.” Beep._

_“Listen, kid. I know you need space right now but we’re here for you, angel. Penelope’s going out of her mind. She threw a ragdoll at me because I said it looked like you. I don’t like my baby girls mad. Come home, kid.” Beep._

_“Hey, Piper. It’s JJ. Just wanted you to know that, uh, well, Henry said his first words today. He can’t stop saying Dada to everyone. He called Emily Dada. God, you should’ve seen the look on her face. Anyway, I just…I hope you’re okay. That’s it.” Beep._

_“Listen, kiddo, we’re like family. Don’t push us away… Just call me back.” Beep._

_“Okay, look, JJ told me to give you a call. Well, she basically threatened me to call you. Listen, we’d really like you to come back, even just to visit. Look, I just- I’d like to see you and you know I’d feel better knowing… Knowing you’re still part of us. Not that you aren’t. Just um… yeah.” Beep._

_“Hey, Auntie Piper. It’s from Jack. Daddy’s really busy but he misses you. I miss you too Auntie. Bye.” Beep._

_“Okay Dr Piper Bishop, you listen to me. Whatever research you’re doing with whatever hot professor and yes, I know he’s hot, I looked him up, it is unimportant. Yes, I may be drunk but that does not mean I am wrong. Kevin, stop, I’m threatening Piper so she comes back and I don’t have to sit in my little cave and look at the little tree-light she gave wondering where my sister went---” Beep._

_“Hey, Piper. I uh… I don’t really know what to say but I know you won’t check these at all because you hate voicemails and how you have to pay to listen to people’s messages about brunch, so I guess it doesn’t really matter what I say. I think a part of me always knew we’d never last. Dunno, guess I always thought it was one of those too good to be true things, you know. And I’m trying to be okay. I manage most of the time. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes Morgan will say something so scientifically stupid on the jet that I’ll look behind me to your couch but you’re not there. And other times, it’s like my brain just hits a wall and I’ve gotten so used to you being around that… I don’t know how to break it. Pipes, I can pretend I don’t need you, but I do, and I wish I could quote some poetry that would capture it perfectly but… That’s the best I’ve got. B- “ Beep._

Piper’s dam cracked, tears flooding out as Spencer’s hollow voice echoed in her ears, Penelope glancing at the Halloween fairy house Piper had gifted her glued behind her eyelids, Henry’s first words that she never got to hear, Jack’s small voice tearing her to pieces. She threw whatever she could find. Lamps, papers, photo frames, souvenirs from her mantle, all of it cascaded to the floor as everything she had left erupted. Until she heard a faint knock at the door. Piper trudged over to see a small envelope slip through the crack under the door. Piper peeked through the peephole, seeing nothing but empty hallway. Sighing, she picked it up to see Spencer’s scratchy handwriting that annoyed her to pieces. She didn’t bother searching for a letter opener, tearing apart the creamy envelope with her fingers to get to the letter underneath.

* * *

To Dr Piper Bishop,

I figured this would be the safest way to contact you. I just had to specify some instructions with the letter, but I didn’t know what else to do. I know why you’re doing all this. I know about Mrs Hanson, and the calls and I never sent you any flowers. Pipes, if you’re in danger, you know we can help. We’ve helped dozens before and before you say this is personal, that’s why we won’t stop till we find this guy. But the others won’t believe me. Tell me how to help, please. There has to be a way out.

Yours,

Dr Spencer Reid

* * *

This was ridiculous, Piper thought as she sat down to write. They lived in the 21st century, there had to be a better way to communicate than this. But the post box was just down the street. It would have to do, she supposed as she finished the letter with a flourish in a lighter mood than simply 10 minutes ago.

* * *

To Dr Spencer Reid,

You can’t tell them. I won’t have any of you put in danger because of some stalker. Right now, this has to be the best way. And you’re right. I hate this. I hate being away from everyone. I hate being away from you. He killed my landlady, Spence, there’s no limit to this guy. I have to wait this out and I don’t care if my life has to wait it out too, so long as everyone is safe. Don’t look for him and forget about me.

Yours,

Dr Piper Bishop

* * *

To Dr Bishop,

I can’t just sit here and do nothing. And forgetting about you, you can’t ask me to do that. You want to wait it out, fine. But I still need you. I’ll wait as long as I have to.

Yours,

Dr Reid.

* * *

Letters weren’t enough, Piper realised as she read through the short scratchy handwriting. There had to be a way, he’d said. Piper scanned the room, eyes falling on her laptop. Maybe there was a way after all. A gleam in her eye, she grabbed one last set of stationery and set about writing instructions.


	4. Letters and Long Distances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper gives in, starting to contact Spencer more and more under pseudonyms

The instructions were simple enough, and she’d panicked while writing it, Spencer noted. Either that or she was desperate. Perhaps that was why he’d cancelled his second date after all and found himself in an internet café logged in as John Doyle, writing an e-mail to Maeve Donovan. He’d suggested both pseudonyms, remembering their matching Arthur Conan Doyle sets fondly. They were one of the few books both had read, her focusing on poetry and plays as she grew up while he focused on classic literature and dystopian fiction. As for her name, he knew if Penelope or Derek asked, he could say her name, not Piper’s.

* * *

Dearest Maeve,

Stars sigh, as wolves howl at the moon.

I don’t get it. Stars can’t sigh, they’re just luminous spheroids of plasma held together by its own gravity; and wolves don’t howl at the moon either. They do it to communicate with each other over long distances which is interesting because a single howl can communicate things like a wolf's location, warnings about predators, and the position of prey. You think Lord Byron knew all that?

Yours,

John

* * *

Dear John,

I don’t think Byron knew either of those things and when did you start reading Heaven and Earth? Never mind. Stars have been around for centuries and there have always been stories about them, dating all the way back to Hellenic Greece. You know as well as I do the psychological implications of a single sigh, going from exasperation to admiration, so context is important. Personally, I think it’s really beautiful. Think of a star as an entity, being around for centuries, watching wolves come and go. The romantic notion at the time was that wolves howled at the moon, the symbol for the goddess Artemis. Sorry, this is getting confusing, even for me. Let me start again.

Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt, was meant to be seen by wolves as the moon and so when they howled at her, it was a sort of love they had for her. The stars are seen as her huntresses, loyal priestesses who swore off love. So, in my opinion, her priestesses are sighing at the wolves who yearn for a woman they can never have.

Yours,

Maeve

* * *

This went on for weeks, each talking about their respective work. Once a month, they’d decided to call. Spencer would go to a payphone a few blocks away, a different one every month. Spencer would listen to her talk animatedly about the progress she was making, how they had finally found someone willing to do the experiment and how far along their study was going. Piper would listen to Spencer talk about the lives he’d helped, the people he’d protected. He heard her resolve crack as she talked about the walls they were hitting and the guilt of asking people to relive their traumas. She heard his voice quiver as he talked about some bad ones, the killers he hadn’t helped bring to justice. Blocks apart, their voices comforted each other while a pair of eyes watched another pair of siblings miles away.


	5. Guns and Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper's life is on hold, but she can't keep waiting. With her stalker seeming to be gone, maybe she can snatch her life back.

Piper was getting sick of her apartment, antsy even. She’d never felt this restless as the four walls stared back at her pacing aimlessly. Their research had hit a wall as one of their subjects had gone on a break. Theo was taking some time to organise the next phase and reviewing the work she’d done, accumulating his notes into a prim and proper report. There’d been no more contact from the stalker for a month. No calls, no texts, no fan mail, nothing. Maybe it had finally worked. Lucy’s semester break was over, and Daniel was dealing with a heavy murder trial in Maine. Maybe she should return to some semblance of her old life again. Maybe it was time. All in all, she made one email and a call after major deliberation on whether sushi was better than Mexican.

* * *

Spencer was surprised by Piper’s forwardness, to say the least. But her was too shocked to notice Emily's eyes staring at the back of his head as he walked back into the precinct.

“Something wrong kid?” Her voice finally registered in Spencer’s head. “Is this about phone booth girl?” He managed to croak out a yes, thankful that Derek had wrapped up his files and gone to the hotel early to call Jordan. Without two of his favourite ladies on the case, things just weren’t the same. But at least one of them still answered his calls.

“She wants to go out.”

“Spencer, that’s great! When?”

“As soon as I get back,” he managed to whisper.

“Do- Do you not want to go? Cause I am willing to call her and tell her—”

“No!” His sudden yell scared her a little, but Spencer apologised, taking a deep breath to clarify his hesitance. “I just haven’t seen her…” He trailed off, unsure of how to explain it to Emily without giving her away.

“Wait, you two have never met?”

“No, it- It’s not like that. We’ve met but… She’s been working on a project and we…well you know how we communicate.”

“Yeah, the uh, emails you’re always checking when you’re meant to be doing handwriting analysis? So, what are you worried about?”

“It’s just…” Spencer took a seat in front of his colleague, his friend. “It’s just what if she doesn’t like me?” He shrugged, picking at his fingers. “What if I’ve just…worn off or something?” He didn’t see the stern look Emily had taken up.

“Why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Because I’m weird. I slouch, my hair’s too long, my tie’s perpetually crooked.” His eyes met hers, warm and tender, her face outlined by jet black hair.

“Your hair’s fine,” she shrugged, a smile twinging at her lips.

“Really? Thanks, my mom thinks it’s too long, so does my aunt Ethel.”

“Well, you’re not dating either of them.”

“I just… I don’t want to lose her.” Emily nodded slowly, keeping eye contact as she mulled over Reid’s problem.

“Well, the way I see it, you’ll lose her anyway if you don’t go." Emily smiled. “She’s going to love you, Spencer. The rest of us already do.” She got up. “Listen, I packed up your things for you and the flight’s in an hour so if we hurry, you can still make your date.” She grabbed her box and bag, leaving to get the car. Spencer haphazardly threw his things into his messenger bag before hurrying after her.

* * *

Piper was definitely early. She hadn’t seen Spencer in months, been out of the loop with her own life. Was maroon even his favourite colour anymore? She shook her nerves out, smiling as the waitress came over to take her to her table. Half an hour early. She cursed her mild anxiety for making her get here this early and now she was panicking. What if the case took too long and he hadn’t called yet because he hadn’t found a payphone or maybe didn’t bother calling because he was never going to show up anyway and— _Stop it!_ She ordered herself, breathing out shakily as the hair on her neck pricked up. A young woman approached her, not the waitress but her face was familiar. “Piper? Hi, I thought I recognised you.” The familiar woman took a seat in front of her, smiling iridescently as she placed her purse and champagne glass on the table. It finally clicked.

“Cyril?” Piper held out her hand. “From the experiment, right?”

“Yeah, you know I was kinda sceptical, but your boyfriend, Theo, he was great. It was just a pity I couldn’t meet you.” She took a sip from her glass, eyes never leaving Piper’s. She was pretty, Piper noted. Her hair was slightly longer than hers, her nails painted a light blue.

“Oh, Theo’s not my boyfriend. He’s a colleague of mine. Used to work with him at—”

“Brown? Yeah, I remember. I did some research on you Dr Bishop. It was you, Theo and um… God, his name is like right on the—”

“Arthur? Arthur Cross?” Piper was slightly uncomfortable at the sound of name, still tasting a little sour.

“Mhmm. How come he wasn’t there? At the experiment?”

“You know, I’m not quite sure.” Piper started fidgeting a little. Cyril was starting to make her very uncomfortable. “Probably busy with his own career.” She just laughed derisively.

“Woow. I thought you two were closer than that.” Piper threw a glance back at the door.

“You know, this has been great but I think I accidentally came into the wrong rest—”

“You move from your seat and they die,” Cyril said, tilting her head as her voice lilted. Piper froze. “Besides, my gun’s levelled between your legs. Now, I’m no biology student, but it’ll probably hurt right?” Piper closed her eyes, yelling at herself internally, instinctively crossing her legs. “Maybe you could do another research paper on that. Linking bullet wounds to sexual tension? Or is that flawed research too?” Piper’s eyebrows crossed. “But I’m getting distracted,” she said, reprimanding herself slightly. With one hand, Cyril opened the latch of her purse, pushing forward a picture of Daniel in his house with Eva, his girlfriend. He was going to ask her to move in. Evidently, he did, Piper thought wryly through panic flooding through her veins. Not as much panic as when she pushed another picture of Lucy, bound and gagged with duct tape. “Guess you’re not a very good sister then.”

“If you hurt them…” Piper trailed off, her voice ice-cold and ragged.

“What? What are you going to do that you haven’t done yet? Hurt me? Stop me? Kill me?” Cyril scoffed humourlessly. “If you haven’t noticed, your darling sister’s already been hurt.” Piper slumped, staring at the pictures on the table.

“Is that what you want from me? To see me helpless? Well, you’ve done it,” Piper congratulated her half-heartedly. “What next?” Cyril’s eyes gleamed as her grin spread.

“Finally. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna call your date, whoever he is and tell him you never want to see him again. Otherwise, I kill your sister. Go on.” Piper punched in a number with no intention of giving her what she asked.

“ _Piper? Look, I’m sorry I’m running so late, but I swear I’ll be there. Just give me—"_

“Save it, Drew.” She just hoped he would understand. “I can’t do this anymore.” Cyril’s smile only grew wider. “I’m not some wolf, Drew. I can’t keep howling at a moon that’s never going to be mine. The stars aren’t sighing, they’re laughing. I was stupid to think this would work. I can’t see you again, Drew. I’m sorry.” She clicked the phone shut before throwing it under the table, cracking into it with her heel. “How was that?”

“Well, I’d say you kept up your record of hurting people.”

“So, what now?”


	6. Shackles and Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper's been taken hostage, her sister's life in the balance. Will Spencer save the Bishops before it's too late?

Spencer was pacing as Garcia struggled to track Piper’s phone. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I’ve got nothing.” Hotch stood behind him, conversing quietly with Rossi and Prentiss.

“Wait, so she had a stalker after her this whole time and she never told us?” Morgan shook his head. “I can’t believe this, I thought she was smarter than this.”

“She is,” Spencer retorted, his head snapping up as he stopped pacing. “You think she didn’t think this through? Her stalker’s smarter than that. He knew where Piper worked, he knew where her sister was, damn it, Morgan, he killed her landlady.” Morgan shrunk in on himself when JJ entered the small room.

“Anderson found her.” Spencer pushed past Morgan, sprinting to the conference room to find a young woman clutching a cup of coffee and he glimpsed Lucy’s tear-stricken face. They quickly established that Rossi and Morgan would take charge of the interview with Lucy while Prentiss took Reid to the apartment. Spencer glanced at the door forlornly before Emily winded up, kicking the door down in one blow. She started profiling the apartment while Spencer looked at the remnants of the house. Without meaning to, a memory fired in his brain from years ago.

* * *

Piper was still a consultant and the classes had been killing her. Not to mention the pressure she put on herself. A successful case behind them, Morgan had asked everyone out for drinks, bur Piper denied politely. Spencer had assumed discomfort, but she’d shut that doubt down as she confided with him that she was nervous about her exam coming up. More than anything else, Spencer had been shocked. Piper had barely been with them for 3 months and she’d already finished the course.

He didn’t know what had made him come up to her apartment, uninvited too, but it had hit him late that night that he still had his study notes from his time at the academy. Piper had ushered him in, her stress kicking in more than shock at seeing him there. He’d set his stuff down by the door, looking back only to see her sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers, popping Maltesers in her mouth as she revised the Midwest’s most wanted. He stood there awkwardly, waiting for a cue to speak but not wanting to interrupt something. But before he could manage the courage to speak, she’d piped up. “So, Carl Panzram killed men of different ages, races, and professions, forcibly sodomized them as a way to torture and humiliate them, as well as others that he raped and didn't kill?” Spencer wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

“I was so full of hate that there was no room in me for such feelings as love, pity, kindness or honour or decency. My only regret is that I wasn't born dead or not at all,” he recited, the memory still fresh from his own exams. But Piper had just shaken her head.

“I don’t get it. He was only 11. Beaten every day, sexually abused, I mean his own brothers tormented him. If that was Dan…” Piper trailed off, setting down her profile to rub at her eyes. “He didn’t kill till he was 12, Doc. And people wonder why America had so many serial killers.” Spencer shrugged, taking a seat.

“Statistically, the US population in the 90s was so dense that it was obvious they had more kill—”

“I get that, Reid. But if these people had just been taken care of, talked to, none of this would have happened. I mean, juvenile reform? For burglaries. No, I can’t—” She rubbed her face again. “My essays are gonna suck tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Your paper on juvenile trauma and psychopathy was a very interesting read.” Piper’s eyes flicked upwards, a curious vulnerability.

“Really? You—You read my paper?” Spencer shrugged.

“Yeah. Your style of writing’s completely different from most research papers, you barely focus on statistics, but I can’t say much considering—”

“Your research on identifying non-obvious relationship factors using cluster weighted modelling and geographic regression. And I thought geographic profiles were hard to understand,” Piper scoffed sharply before realising her blunder. “Not that your dissertation wasn’t interesting. Just uh,” she hesitated, struggling to find the words as Spencer prepared himself for an insult. “Overwhelming, to say the least. I mean, even after I researched what you were saying, it just kinda blew me away.” Piper stared into the ground.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

* * *

They’d talked for hours on the very couch Spencer ran his fingers along now, Emily going through the bookshelf. “Hey, look at this.” She walked over with Piper’s Byron collection. “There’s a note in here. ‘Note to self: give poem to S.R.’”

“Would you read it for me, Emily?” She couldn’t resist his small, sweet voice, endearing to everyone.

> _So, we'll go no more a-roving_
> 
> _So late into the night,_
> 
> _Though the heart be still as loving,_
> 
> _And the moon be still as bright._
> 
> _For the sword outwears its sheath,_
> 
> _And the soul wears out the breast,_
> 
> _And the heart must pause to breathe,_
> 
> _And love itself have rest._
> 
> _Though the night was made for loving,_
> 
> _And the day returns too soon,_
> 
> _Yet we'll go no more a-roving_
> 
> _By the light of the moon._

* * *

Piper felt cold and dizzy. She tasted metal in her mouth and her eyes fought to stay awake. Her hand tried to rub them, except something weighed it down. Corrugated iron latched tightly around her wrist. She tried to blink the pain away; her head still heavy. Probably a concussion, she thought. Unbidden, the image of her sister bound with duct tape entered her mind and she retched.

“Good, you’re finally up. Just in time, too.”

“Where’s my sister?” Piper’s voice was like steel, cutting sharply through Cyril’s disquieting charm. But she just tutted.

“You were such a conversationalist at Brown. What happened? No sharp comebacks? No witty rejoinder?” Piper tried to rush the gears in her head and place this woman, but nothing showed up. “Oh, you’ll remember me. Not now, the concussion won’t help with that.” Cyril’s phone buzzed. “Oops, that’ll be my man. Be back soon,” she chirped, pressing a kiss to Piper’s forehead and leaving the room to answer her call. Piper just hung her head back, trying to scan the room for anything useful. But instead, her body gave in to her exhaustion and the world turned dark.


	7. Working and Worrying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team try to find Piper before it's too late.

Emily had found a small shoebox under Piper’s bed. They’d rummaged through it before taking it back to Quantico.

Rossi and Morgan had extracted small remnants of information. Lucy had been more helpful than they bargained for.

Penelope and Hotch had kept trying to track Piper but all they had to go on was the restaurant that Piper had booked.

Everyone reported back to the conference room where Daniel kept rubbing circles on Lucy’s back and she tugged the blanket around her tighter. He’d flown in after Hotch had called him about his eldest sister. “We have to comb through her life,” Hotch reminded them. “Go through anything she might have said about her childhood, education, work everything. Any colleagues you can think of.”

Lucy told them as much as she could manage about their childhood. How Piper had practically raised them after their mom’s death. Suicide, she’d corrected herself, her voice hollow as she was surrounded by FBI agents. She tried not to lapse into reminiscence, but it happened anyway, as she talked about Piper sneaking away every Friday night to see her mother and the monthly bonfires that somehow always managed to avoid police sweeps.

Daniel told them everything he remembered about Piper’s college life. How she kept to herself that first year at Berkeley, opening up more as she reached the right crowd. She wasn’t a party person or a boyfriend person, he said, muttering an apology to Spencer. Her friends were mostly like her, guys and girls that pushed them and their body to the limit to reach their ambition. Piper had almost overdosed halfway through her first PhD. Piper’s success, he noted with a sad smile, was attributed differently. Her friends wanted to get out of Berkeley to move to MIT or Stanford or wherever else. Piper had wanted to get out so she could get them out. She’d moved out eventually but kept in touch from her clinic in New Haven as she finished her last PhD. Daniel had moved out and into law, starting at Berkeley before transferring to Massachusetts. He’d lived with some flatmates and Piper would check in from time to time, but even then, she had no time for relationships. She was the reason he’d gotten through law school, helping him with coursework and relationships, getting him settled in Maine.

Lucy’s hollow voice interrupted. “I’d always wanted to go to film school and Piper…she’d always been so proud of me. But Dad wanted me to go into medicine, to ignore Piper’s… ‘tree-hugging liberalism’” she scoffed. “She got me out, paid for film school and now…” She let out a sob before cradling her head into Daniel’s neck.

“Find our sister,” Daniel pleaded with them, eyes trained on his other sister.

“We will,” Rossi promised, and the team moved into the bullpen, leaving the conference room for the grieving siblings. “So, she didn’t have boyfriends, she was studying all the time in college, it has to be something related to her work, right?” Hotch intervened, telling the team about Piper’s professional life, Penelope interrupting with useful titbits. Hotch started talking about her work as a court-appointed psychiatrist, Penelope adding that they were all cleared by the system and most of them were child assault cases or domestic violence, while other unsavoury folks were out of state or in prison. He moved on to her work as a counsellor, having gone through her work with Garcia remembering that those were mostly addiction or mental health cases, neither of them, as Prentiss pointed out, very susceptible to stalking behaviour.

The only other avenue left was her work as a lecturer at Berkeley, Harvard and Brown. Derek had tackled her lectures at Berkeley, but they were mostly conferences of people with clean behavioural slates. Rossi had contacted some colleagues at Harvard where her job was mostly as a guest lecturer, advising students about avenues with minimum interaction with students. But Emily pointed out that the most likely course was Brown where she had been a research associate for 6 months and part of the university’s funding stemmed from her teaching part of the honours program. There was a possibility that the unsub had met her there. Penelope got to work, narrowing down staff and students from her courses, JJ reminding her about someone named Theo that she was working with recently. Derek noticed Spencer starting to spiral from the stress of it all, grabbing him by the wrist and taking him to the coffee machine.

“Talk to me, genius. What’s going on up there?”

“I have a wealth of knowledge I should be applying to this case,” Spencer murmured softly, his eyes unfocused, an amber haze. “Behavioural patterns of violent stalkers. Tactical recovery strategies. Victim survival odds. But right now, I can't focus on anything more than 4 seconds at a time. Which makes me the dumbest person in the room.”

“Hey, kid. Look over there. Right out there, we’ve got 5 of the greatest minds I know. We’re the best chance Piper’s got.” Spencer’s eyes finally locked with his.

“What if we aren’t enough?”

* * *

Piper blinked slowly, her eyes focusing on the screen in front of her. She recognised the young man in the utility jacket he always wore on top of his hoodie, his brown tousled hair laying over his wide panicked eyes. His usually handsome face was tattered with bruises, the corner of his lip slightly swollen.

“Do you remember him now?” Piper nodded slowly, swallowing, her heart full of fear for him. “What’s his name?”

“Artie,” she whispered.

“I can’t hear you,” she said, her voice lilting again as she sang.

“Dr Arthur Cross,” Piper managed weakly. “My…”

“Well?” she asked, drawling as she circled Piper and the screen.

“What are you going to do with him?” Cyril laughed derisively.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s not what I’m going to do with him. It’s what I did to him.” Lavender filled Piper’s nose, overriding her senses as Cyril leaned over her shoulder to rewind the video. She watched silently as Arthur’s blue eyes darted from each corner of the room, backing up as Cyril entered. The glint of her knife was unmistakable, and Piper waited with bated breath as she closed in on him, scrunching her eyes shut as his bloody screams echoed in her ears.

"Does it kill you?” Cyril whispered, her lips inches away from Piper’s cheek. “Knowing that you can't do anything to stop me?" Giving her what she wants has to make her stop.

“Yes,” Piper trembled as the room went quiet, silent but for Cyril’s laugh.

* * *

Derek and Spencer walked back into the conference room, JJ having taken the Bishop siblings to her office as Rossi and Hotch layout the unsub’s letters sent to Piper dating back several months. “He seems like a classic possessive stalker. One who craves validation and recognition.”

“’Why won't you see me? Do you think you're better than me?’ This comes up again and again,” Prentiss recited after Rossi. “So does his suicidal ideation. ‘When I find you, I'm going to kill you, then myself.’”

“Murder-suicide is the ultimate "I love you" to these guys,” Derek pointed out. “When did the unsub start targeting Piper?”

“She said it started out of the blue,” Spencer muttered, his voice still hollow. “My guess is it was some sort of incidental interaction, something she probably wasn't even aware of.”

“That's gonna make the unsub hard to find,” Rossi said as Hotch and Garcia walked in.

“We didn’t find her, but,” Garcia waved her fluffy pen at them, “I did find one Dr Theodore Martin and he’s an expert in trauma and cognitive psychology. Like wicked smart and French too. Anyway, they were part of a research team back when Piper was a research associate at Brown, even taught courses together. They worked with a Dr Arthur Cross who's like one of those niche classics professors who are like super smart but like you worry how they do in real life. Like yeah, you can quote Shakespeare, but do you understand what groceries are?”

“Pen, the point?” Derek probed.

“Oh, right, sorry. So, Piper, quite obviously, hated the statistical side of things so while the boys did the science-y cognitive stuff, Piper focused on interviews and hypnotherapy. Apparently, their research paper was like a magic combination of their expertise. Anyway, the honours course got me thinking. You always have to get your thesis topic approved in these fields—”

“Because of content concerns,” Reid finished, starting to appreciate his friend’s genius even more than he already did thus far.

“Exactly. So, I went ahead and broke into Piper’s laptop and she still had them saved somewhere because that girl may have the most organised desk in the office, but not the most organised hard drive. This one chick in her class had possibly the most disturbing project idea I’ve ever read, and Kevin once tried to convince me to eat a bacon doughnut so there. Obviously, it got blacklisted and the student was counselled out.”

“What was the project?” Penelope licked her lips at Spencer’s question.

“A study into the interrelationship of pain thresholds and empaths.” Spencer’s forehead unwrinkled as he understood the gravity of the situation, weighing him down so hard that he fell into his chair.

“Spence?” JJ was there in a flash, a hand warm on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s experimenting on Piper.”


	8. Kings and Queens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of chess ensues as the team tries to figure out who the kidnapper is before it's too late.

They’d settled into a game, Piper recognised, where Cyril would ask her questions about her life. The more she answered, the crankier Cyril would get, being forced to come up with better questions rather than torture Arthur. Cyril hadn’t laid a hand on Piper since they got here. Instead, she was given things. Food, water, first aid kits. She refused all of them, then watched as Cyril entered the room on the screen, dumping things haphazardly inside. As Arthur grew stronger, Piper grew weaker. Refusing to sleep so that Arthur could. Refusing to eat so that Arthur could manage morsels of food down. Refusing soothing cream for her screaming wrists so that Arthur could bandage his own. The longer it went on, the grumpier Cyril became, the only smile Piper could manage was when Cyril screamed in frustration at her. But the worst was yet to come.

* * *

Spencer was starting to get antsy. He knew they were close, but Dr Cross was nowhere to be found and Dr Martin was a mess.

“Look, I don’t know, okay? What do you want from me?”

“I want to know who Irene Simmons is,” Hotch demanded, pushing the doctor further.

“I’ve told you; I don’t know her. I was never in there for the teaching, that was Piper and Artie. I barely taught them.”

“That’s ridiculous. You were a professor, you were being paid for it,” Spencer blurted out and Theo just held his head in his hands.

“I know. But I started the project because I hate teaching. Piper agreed to deal with the social aspects of it, convincing people to join, teaching students. I’d never seen her in that element before. She’s like this force of nature, you know. You just can’t help yourself. I mean, there were days where I’d just sit in for a class even though I was fully qualified to teach it. Just to watch her, you know.” Hotch glanced at Spencer who looked like he was about to lunge at the man. Hotch caught him, pushing him out the door.

“Hotch, you heard him. He works in psychology but hates the social aspects of it, he’s practically in love with her, and he even sounds like—”

“Reid, I know. I can handle this. Look, Derek’s bringing lunch, why don’t you grab a bite and have a nap? I’ve got this.”

"I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can barely fucking breathe because she’s gone and it's my fault. And god knows what she’s doing to her right now and I'm just sitting here doing nothing!" Spencer practically screamed at his boss who just looked at him tenderly.

“Take a walk.” Hotch turned and closed the door on Spencer, leaving him in the hallway, feeling more alone than he ever had in his life. JJ looked stormy as she passed him, doubling back as she noticed his unfocused gaze.

“Hotch kick you out?” Spencer just nodded. “I was gonna get some air. Join me?” Spencer pulled himself off the wall, joining JJ as they took a walk outside the building.

* * *

Piper was exhausted. Her eyes fluttered, her limbs felt like they were full of lead, thoughts slow as she tried desperately to stay awake.

“We humans are a social species. Yet sleep deprivation can turn us into social lepers,” Cyril quoted as she paced around Piper.

“Matthew Walker,” she mumbled.

“Right. I keep forgetting how goddamn successful you are.” Cyril threw the lampshade next to her into the walls, yelling in frustration. “I wanted that. I followed you, your footsteps. I went everywhere you did. Worked my ass off to get from Berkeley to Harvard in a year.” Piper barely focused on the words. She wanted to snap her neck up, glare at her defiantly, eyes sparkling like a hero. But here she sat, shackled and slumped, sleepily listening to Cyril’s story as though it were a lullaby. “I wanted to be you for so long, but you still don’t remember me. Ha!” she barked. “You still think my name’s Cyril, don’t you? Artie recognised me. He knew me, consoled me. He took care of me.”

“Then why,” Piper managed to breath out, “are you hurting him?”

“Oh, honey, that’s not me. That’s all you. You broke his heart way before I broke his bones.” She picked up a knife, casually running it along Piper’s cheek, grinning at her shiver. “Besides, this was never about your family or Theo or Artie. This was always about you and me. I want,” she leaned down, mouth inches away from hers, “everything you have.” She sighed, twisted her mouth in thought. “Time for phase 2, I think.” Cyril placed the knife down before grabbing a crowbar at Piper’s side. “Night.” Piper felt cold punch through her skull and then nothing as the world faded to black.

* * *

Spencer was spinning in his chair, trying to focus on his statistics, but they were too blurry, like an out-of-focus camera. He stopped abruptly, standing as Hotch entered solemnly. “Dr Cross proposed to Bishop after Irene Simmons was counselled out.”

“So?”

“Dr Cross was in an unrequited relationship with a younger student at the time.” Rossi slammed his hands down on the table and Spencer flinched.

“Our profile’s wrong. We need to rethink the profile, reset everything that we know about Piper through the prism of one woman stalking another.” Derek nodded. “Treat her like any other victim.”

“We know numbers on female stalkers are minimal,” Emily started. “Only 10% of all cases are female.”

“All right,” Rossi ran with it. “What tops the list of motivators?”

“Prior sexual intimacy,” Hotch suggested. “Erotomania?”

“No. Go the other direction,” Rossi said. “Think female scorned. We slept together. You broke up with me. You proposed to another woman. Now I'll do anything to get back at you. Could that fit Piper? Could she have possibly been in a relationship with this Cross guy?

“No. No,” Spencer shook his head.

“Spence, this morning you didn't know that she was almost engaged,” JJ said softly.

“Yeah, but the answer is no.”

“And what's the second-most common motivation?” JJ veered away.

“Celebrity stalking,” Derek supplied.

“That fits better,” Spencer affirmed.

“She's not famous.”

“Piper’s a star in her field, though. Any of you read her research? She’s a hero to any aspiring psych student.”

“It’s a stretch, kid. Celebrity stalkers are usually nonviolent.”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon, Rossi? What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him? 'It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided.' Well, Piper is somebody and this bitch is a nobody.” They sat in silence as Spencer’s voice echoed around the room. He never yelled, Hotch thought. Never shouted. Never swore. While everyone else shattered over cases, Spencer was the epitome of calm, dealing with his emotions after. Though maybe that was why, he corrected himself. This case was personal for all of them, just like it was with Haley, with Penelope. If they couldn’t protect each other, how could they protect anyone else? “If she dies,” Spencer’s voice was quiet, icy as he spoke. “A part of me goes with her. If we don’t find her—”

“You can’t think like that kid,” Derek interrupted. “Look, it’s possible that this Irene chick was in love with Dr Cross, she lost her chance at the honours program, lost the chance to work with Piper and lost the other guy all in one swing.”

“Maybe it was enough to crack her,” Emily suggested. “Penelope, did you get around to tracking her?”

“I’m trying, but Irene’s like a ghost. All I have is the fact that she was born, and her college records. After that, she just disappeared.”

“Okay, let’s go back to the profile,” Hotch intervened. “Spencer, you’ve read Simmons’s paper, what’s her next move?” Spencer snapped back to attention. “What does she need?”

“Not much, she needs a large workspace, multiple rooms, quiet too. She’d pick somewhere isolated so no-one can hear…” He trailed off, but everyone knew what he meant. “The thematic concept behind the research is to push an empath so far that she becomes selfish.”

“Wait, that mean’s Irene isn’t hurting Piper physically…” Rossi summed, looking to Hotch.

“She’s psychologically tearing her apart.”

* * *

Piper blinked, moving to rub her eyes before remembering. She looked up to see Arthur, chained to his seat, chair nailed to the floor next to a camera. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Irene said, clapping her hands. “The shackles.” She picked up the key from her pocket, unshackling her. “The door is open by the way. I trust you’ll find your way out?” Piper stared at her, then down at Arthur, then pinched herself. “Nope, not a dream. You're free to go.” Piper squinted at her, trying to figure out what her plan was, before she hardened, taking a seat firmly, defiantly locking eyes with Arthur.

“Not till he leaves.”

“Oh, this will be fun,” Irene whispered as she latched Piper back into her seat. “Keep your eyes open, I really want you to watch what I'm about to do to our little friend here." Piper caught the gleam in her eyes as Arthur quivered. She watched her glide behind Arthur as his muffled yells resonated around the room. Piper’s eyes widened as Irene leaned into the crook of Arthur’s neck, gently placing her chin on it as she spoke. “Just keep in mind. You chose her.” She straightened. "I've been waiting a long time for this moment, so I want to be able to take my time with you.” Arthur shoved himself back into the chair he was tied to. Which did next to nothing, the chair was bolted to the ground and thick ropes kept him in place. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? No matter, I’ll soon break you of those habits,” Irene traced her hand to rest around Arthur’s neck.

“Stop-” Piper’s yells caught in her throat as she watched Arthur’s eyes puff out, his skin turning pink. She tried to wrestle her hands out but for no use. Corrugated iron laced around her wrist. “Stop,” she whispered as Irene squeezed, meeting her eyes.

“Beg.”

“Please,” Piper screamed. “Please just stop.” Irene smiled, releasing him.

“Would you rather I do it to you?” Arthur shook his head dully as he gasped for breath. Piper blinked, not even needing to think about it.

“Yes.” Irene gleamed.

“Why?”

“Why do the Gods make kings and queens if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves?” Irene nodded, making her way over to her.

"Some kings make themselves,” Irene murmured, and Piper felt a hand wrap around her neck, silver rings digging into her neck as she squeezed.


	9. Daydreams and Desolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The complete lack of sleep she'd been getting has finally hit Piper as she enters a lucid state.

The world went dark for a moment until Piper bolted up, running a hand through her hair. It was longer than she usually had it. Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window and she felt a lump next to her groan before pulling her arm so she came crashing down next to a smiling Spencer. "Good morning Dr Reid," she mumbled through a kiss. He pulled slowly on her bottom lip.

"Good morning Dr Reid-Bishop." He chuckled. "I'm never going to get used to saying that." Piper froze, but he didn't seem to notice as two giggling monsters climbed up in between them. A little boy with dark hair like Spencer's cuddled up to Piper. _Her_ little boy.

"Hey, baby." She watched with love as Spencer tickled his little girl. Two names erupted from her mouth. "Charlie," she whispered, "and Lydia." Spencer looked over at her, puzzled. But Piper let herself melt into the embrace of her family until Charlie yelled for breakfast. 

Somehow, Piper was dressed, fussing over Lydia and scolding Charlie to sit still, lecturing them both on behaving when Uncle Aaron gets here, sliding aside as Spencer drifted in with a pile of waffles for the four of them. He wrapped an arm around his wife's waist, leaning in for a smooth kiss. "When did you learn how to cook?" Spencer pouted.

"I can cook. Don't you remember our second anniversary?" Piper giggled.

"You mean when your blueberry pancakes looked like Freddy Kruger?" Spencer protested that she'd said they tasted good. The conversation was interrupted abruptly as the two munchkins ran over to the door, yelling for Uncle Hotch, fighting over who got picked up first. Luckily, he'd had practice with Jack and Elle, picking up both of them effortlessly. Piper smiled warmly at the three of them standing there, laughing when Charlie pulled a little too hard and Hotch went crashing into the sofa. The two pulled the kids off of him, Charlie had an arm wrapped around his mom's neck while Lydia clung to Spencer. 

"Hey, uh, David called me, said the case was something urgent, that you guys would be briefed on the jet."

"Yeah," Spencer supplied, tugging at Lydia's nose. "He sent me the file last night. Thanks for making it." Hotch just smiled at them, bending down to pick up Charlie.

"I wouldn't miss it. Tell me about it when you get back." Piper laughed until she caught puzzled looks from the both of them.

"You aren't coming with us?"

"Is everything okay, Piper?"

"Yeah," Spencer looked at her curiously. "Hotch retired ten months ago." Lydia saved her of an explanation again as she lifted her hands out for her momma.

"Hey, Liddy." Piper cradled her little girl. "You're sure they won't be too much?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. It's only a weekend, right? We'll be fine."

* * *

North Dakota was pretty, but they definitely needed more airports. “You have a profile yet?”

“Spence, I literally just opened the file.”

“And?” Spencer looked at her knowingly and Piper laughed wryly.

“Okay, this looks exactly like a narcissistic arsonist,” she said, flicking through the iPad as Spencer drove their SUV. “Most likely a white male between 30 and 45, victimology suggests he has a grudge against elitists, could very well be a firefighter.”

“An angel of death? Could be a power crave or—”

“I’m sorry, but could you drive any slower?” Spencer pouted at her.

“Oh, so you think you’re a better driver. Prove it,” he challenged and let go of the wheel.” Piper screamed, lunging for the wheel. Spencer laughed as he took hold again, mock yelling as Piper slapped his arm.

“Drive faster. The quicker we get there, the quicker we can deliver this profile and go home.” Spencer’s face softened as Piper leaned back, gazing out the window.

“You miss them too huh?” She took a deep breath.

“You, Charlie, Liddy, the team. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Piper felt his hand land soft on hers and she turned her head as Spencer pulled up at the precinct. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist before flashing a smile. He got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Piper’s head snapped up and she was brought back to reality, Arthur watching her, duct tape now removed. The camera was still there. Her hands were still pinned to the chair. Her family wasn’t.

“Good, you’re back.” Irene picked at her nails with the point of her knife. Arthur looked exhausted, his eyelids droopy, cheeks sagging as dried blood coated the side of his face. “Look into the camera, sweetheart, and smile for your friends, it’s been a while since they’ve seen you.” Sniffing, Irene got up gracefully from her seat. “Now, I’m giving you two choices. You can stay there, chained and let me do what I want to you, but if you make me stop, I’m going to kill him. Is that clear, peach?” Piper nodded, praying she was strong enough to do this.


	10. Despair and Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final aftermath. Will she survive?

Derek couldn’t bring himself to look away from Garcia’s screen and screamed for Hotch at the top of his lungs. The others gathered, watching a bloody and bruised Piper screaming as Irene plunged the small, silver needles underneath her fingernails. They heard Irene’s voice clear as a bell. _“Would you like me to stop?”_ Spencer watched, blood boiling, as Piper whimpered as she shook her head. Derek punched the table while JJ gripped Penelope’s shoulder. Hotch watched stoically as Rossi paced, wincing in conjunction with Piper. But none of them could watch as Irene ripped the needles out at once, eliciting a bone-chilling scream from Piper.

“Garcia, can you trace it?” Penelope unfroze at Hotch’s voice, getting to work on a second laptop, trying to put her best friend’s screams in that deep dark spot in the corner of her brain, focusing on her work.

“No, I can’t track it,” she whimpered as Piper’s screams reverberated around the conference room. Irene was leaning over her arm, pressing something into it that made her shriek. They say that calm comes before the storm, but that isn't quite true, Spencer thought, watching the torture unfold. Calm comes after the storm, when everyone's tears and screams have already drowned and choked them, and they have nothing else to say. What truly comes before the storm, is silence. Acceptance of what is about to come. But never calm. Because fear is truly the loudest scream of them all.

* * *

Irene stood up, her voice ringing out.

“Have you had enough yet?” Piper’s eyes were closed, her bruises prominent through the screen.

“For the sword outwears its sheath,” she recited exhaustedly, “And the soul wears out the breast, and the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest.” Irene’s face was mutinous and grabbing the first thing she could clutch; she plunged the knife through her leg and she screamed. With that scream, the careful web she’d woven came toppling down, undone. She sobbed his name, and, in her solace, Irene found another opportunity.

“Now that’s interesting.” Irene straightened, yanking the knife out with her, settling it down as picked up a gun. In full view of Piper, Irene emptied the gun save for one bullet, spinning the barrel as she nestled the tip on her forehead, point blank. Cool metal tinged her skin as Piper rasped. More than anything, she wanted to be nestled in Spencer’s arms, his deep oaky scent a refreshing change to the lavender that choked her. “Who’s Spencer?” She remained immobile, paralysed by her own mistake. The shot rang out. “Who’s Spencer?” Piper closed her eyes, surrendering herself to her fate.

"If you have to kill one of us kill me."

“You don’t _get_ to surrender. You lose when I say you lose, you win when I say you win, you die when I say you die. I haven’t said you can die yet. Who. Is. Spencer?” She was met with silence. Huffing, Irene reloaded the gun, cocking it as she aimed it at Arthur.

“Tell me, and I’ll set him free.” Piper was tired of fighting. Tired of being strong.

“My colleague,” she whispered as she fought to keep her eyes open. “My best friend, my…everything,” she managed to croak out, eyes about to flutter shut when a single shot rang out and a ragged, raw scream of agony erupted out of her. Piper yelled, thrashing with every ounce of strength she had left. “ _No!_ You said you would let him ** _go!_** ” 

“No, I said I would set him free,” Irene replies, face stone cold as she began wiping the blood off her gun. “What’s freer than this?” She untied him, letting Arthur’s body slump to the floor. With one last push against rusted iron, Piper surged forward, nestling Arthur’s limp body in her hands. She cradled his head sobbing while Irene scoffed. “You’re weak. That’s what they all said. I lost **everything**!” Irene was shrieking. “My career over before it began, the love of my life gone, all of it because of you. I worshipped you. This,” she spat. “This is all your fault.” Raw anger surged through Piper as she stood up shakily, legs still weak from the knife.

“You think I had it easy?” Piper yelled, her voice raw, ripped apart from the pain. “My mother killed herself, I had to raise my siblings at 14, I was working double shifts after school most nights, I almost OD’d in college, and the only reason I am where I am today is that I pushed myself.” Her chest heaved with effort, oblivious to Penelope watching dumbstruck or to the team standing behind her. “You are weak,” she scoffed bitterly. “Because you gave up.” Irene’s face contorted and she lunged for Piper. Her training kicked in as she ducked the blow, sweeping Irene’s legs from underneath her before snatching the knife from the table and plunging it into her chest, watching blood bubble out of her lips. Getting up shakily, Piper crawled over to her old friend, cradling him as she sobbed over his bruised and bloody body until Derek surged forward, wrapping his arms around Piper to gently pull her away from him, crying softly into his shoulder until she ran out of tears. Derek murmured to ask her if she could stand and she nodded, wiping her eyes as Derek pulled her up. She stumbled forward with him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I think I’m gonna…” Piper’s eyes fluttered closed in exhaustion as she collapsed into Morgan’s arms while Hotch yelled for a medic.

“Where’s the medic?! We need a medic up here _now!_ ”

Piper was fast asleep as Derek swung her bruised, cold legs up over his arm, Piper using his shoulder as a pillow.


	11. Healing and Horror

Morgan and Hotch gazed solemnly at Piper's sleeping frame. Her hair was mussed up, her wrists tied to the bed frame, an IV attached to her arm. She hadn't needed surgery, just narcotics for the pain and stitches for her wounds. She'd woken up after an hour, restless, calm until she remembered. Sobbing, she'd begged the nurse to stop, to let her die. Derek remembered Hotch and Rossi pinning her to the bed as he was forced to rip the scalpel from her hands. A nurse had eventually given her anaesthesia to knock her out, and now they stood outside her room while the others were driving in. Penelope hugged Derek as Emily and JJ trailed in behind her. Daniel and Lucy sprinted into her room, making a beeline to their sister's side. Spencer stopped next to Rossi, glancing over his girlfriend's body. Piper blearily blinked, casting her eyes to Lucy and rose to hug her, only to be restricted by the leather straps on her wrists. Daniel snapped them off and Lucy lunged for their sister, latching onto Piper for dear life. Piper chuckled weakly, reaching for Daniel's hand. Eventually, Lucy pulled away and Piper placed a tender hand on Lucy's bruised jaw. "When did she take you?" Piper croaked.

"As soon as I got to Maine. She took me." Piper turned to Daniel. "Irene wrote a fake letter, it's not his fault. Said I was staying in a hotel."

"And you were fine with that?" Piper scolded him and Daniel flushed.

"I'm sorry. I should've done more, Pipes. I'm really sorry," he pleaded. Piper nodded subtly.

"You guys have to get out now."

"What, why?" Lucy protested.

"Because if you two hog me any longer, Penelope's going to burst." She heard a watery sob outside and Lucy and Daniel made their way out. Penelope tottered forwards, grabbing around Piper to pull her in. "Just don't pull any of my stitches," Piper tried to joke as the team surrounded her. Spencer gently took a hand.

"How are you feeling?" JJ asked, sticking to Emily's side.

"Like I want to go home, blast Taylor Swift and drink wine." Piper met Derek's eyes, an unbidden question held in his deep brown eyes. She nodded to him subtly. Emily caught the nod too, herding everyone except Reid out so she could rest. Piper leaned her head against the pillows. "Is Irene-"

"She made it. The knife nicked the lung. Doctors saved her." Piper looked relieved.

"How did you find me?" _Me, she thought. Not us. Not him. Just me._

"We found her thesis on your drive," he said gently and Piper closed her eyes. "Piper, who's Arthur?" A tear streaked down her face. Spencer didn't know if he could accept what she might say.

"He was a friend, a good one. We met at Harvard, Theo too. We always topped our class, always competing with each other, but always making sure none of us took it too hard. Especially, especially me. I was still recovering from- anyway, we figured out that we worked well together. Theo was exceptional with, um, brain scans. I could cope, but not my greatest asset. Arthur was the geneticist. I was the psychiatrist. And now he's..." Piper sobbed again, a hand gripping Spencer's. 

"Hey, hey." He attempted to be soothing, but he felt incredible fear, his heart hammering in his chest. "It's okay. You're with me. It's okay." He raised his hand over to wipe the tears away gently and she stiffened at his touch, watching his hands out of the corner of her eye.

"I don't want to be here," she whispered. The world is too bright and too loud and too much, and she wanted to go back, go home, go curl up next to Spencer and tuck his arm around her and lace her fingers through his hand and it’s too much, it’s too much, it’s _too much._

"We'll go home, okay. Soon as the doctor's give you the okay." Piper nodded slowly, refusing to meet Spencer's eyes.

"I failed him," she murmured.

"No," Spencer said, sitting down beside her. "You protected him as best you could. You're a hero, Piper."

"I don't feel like one," she said bitterly.

"Well," Spencer looked at his thumb, stroking the back of her hand. He moved it to cup her face beneath her curls and she winced slightly before leaning into his warmth. "You're a hero to me." He stroked her cheekbone, wet to the touch and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Get some rest." Piper watched him until her eyelids drooped and she tried to fight it, but she fell asleep all the same.

By the time she woke up, Spencer was asleep on the couch and Derek was in the armchair. "Is that pudding?" Piper asked, her voice thick with sleep. Derek looked over at her.

"Hey, angel." His voice was terribly soft. "How you feeling?"

"Is there more pudding?" Derek chuckled wryly, placing his pudding cup to the side as he maintained his gaze on her. "I don't wanna be here."

"We're working on it."

"No, I mean, I don't want to be here," she said again. "I shouldn't be here. A- I want him to be here. Not me."

"Pipes, believe me, you did everything you could to save him."

"It wasn't enough Der. Why wasn't it enough?" Piper sighed, closing her eyes for a revelation to appear. "All the wrong people are alive, Morgan."

"Angel, I know what you're going through-" Piper turned her head to look at him.

"I really hope you never have to, Derek." Spencer shifted in his sleep and Piper gazed over at him. "He's gonna regret sleeping on that couch."

"We regret a lot of things, Piper. But life goes on. Even when we don't want it to."

"So why keep going?" Piper said helplessly.

"Because of all the things we've got left to do." They went quiet and Piper stared at the tiled ceiling.

"He saved me." Derek kept his gaze on her, listening to her voice rising over Spencer's soft snores. "I was 21, fighting to stay awake longer, to work a little harder until all of a sudden I wasn't eating, I wasn't sleeping. Just living off of coffee and Adderall. Pulling all-nighters just to study more. A-Arthur saved me," she choked out. "God knows the things I yelled at him." She raised a hand, rubbing her face gently. "And I let him down. How the hell am I supposed to square that with my conscience?"

"Listen to me very carefully. You haven't let anyone down. There is no-one here that isn't proud of how strong you were in there. We don't sacrifice ourselves for other people, it doesn't work like that. We do our best. Sometimes that's not enough. But there are so many other people that need us. That need you. Piper, we want you around. I want you around." Piper looked at him tearfully.

"You know, I don't give you enough credit sometimes."

"No, you really don't."

"Come here, you dork," she chuckled through falling tears and Morgan glided over, wrapping her in his arms. He smelt like cinnamon and chocolate, which she presumed was from the pudding. "You owe me pudding."

"Deal."


End file.
